An Update and/or an Identity Crisis

You know what I realized? These pop culture recaps are all about other people! I need to get back to what this blog is truly about: stroking my own ego… or something like that. I’m definitely the centre of this digital universe. 

So how have I been lately? 

No, I’m asking.

I really don’t know, please tell me. 

It’s not total numbness, more muted emotion. There are still days that I don’t get out of bed, but they’re not as dark as they once were. Still I remain unable to move. Frozen, probably scared of the world. 

Woah, that got intense for a second. 

What else is new… um… 

Logan’s here for a bit, and that’s been really nice. 

Okay, back to the darkness. I think I’m looking for passion. There are things I like, and supposedly want to do, but I’m struggling to identify them. It’s hard to learn more about yourself when you’re locked in a room. I feel like I’m searching for some sort of epiphany, which also sounds like some hippie shit I’d make fun of. Self-actualization is not on the horizon. I just want a hint, a new discovery that can give me a little more information about myself so I can know which direction to go next. I feel like I’m trying to solve a sudoku on a level that’s far beyond my limited ability. 

So is life bad? No, not really. I think it all comes down to privilege. My worst day is better than so many people’s best day. But oh, it’s so annoying when people talk that way. What I’m trying to get at here is that I’m essentially fine. Just not emotionally. But it’s also not that bad. God, why is everything so confusing!

Here’s a question for my more mature readers: do you actually develop a strong sense of identity, or do you just stop focusing on looking for it? I’m thinking that your sense of self forms in the background while you work on more important things, and then one day you wake up and you start reflecting on what’s been there for a while now. You’re like, “oh, I guess this is who I am.” Shit, this is so abstract. 

So yeah, I’m fine enough. I’ve been passing the time by reading (often listening to audiobooks) and watching tv or whatever. Just trying to make the time go by while I’m waiting for something that will never come without personal intervention. I’ve been making a somewhat concerted effort to become more culturally well-rounded. By that I mean I listened to Dracula as an audiobook and I’m very proud of myself for making it through. I usually shy away from any writing that is older than my dad. I don’t know if you can tell by reading this sentence, but I usually prefer cutting to the point, and I struggle with flowery language. But beyond Dracula, my reading has been rounded, as I’ve read A Room of One’s Own, The Metamorphosis, To Kill a Mockingbird, and then all of the “Game Changers” series (the books Heated Rivalry is based on), which is occasionally just porn. As per usual, I’ve read a few memoirs, a little bit of non fiction, and some stuff about death. 

A while ago, I was talking to my friend Danielle about books, specifically the Heated Rivalry series. I begged her to watch the show, and then I begged her to read the books so I’d have someone to talk to them about. At this point we’ve both read all six books. I called her to talk about the ending of The Long Game, and how I hope it is changed for the show. Actually, while the first season of Heated Rivalry is pretty faithful to the text, I hope that a lot of changes are made to the second book, although the overarching story, particularly Ilya’s storyline is great. All of this is irrelevant. 

Now that Danielle has finished the series, we were talking about what she should read next, as she jokingly brings up Pounded by Produce by G.M. Fairy, a book that follows two priests who shapeshift into vegetables that are used for… inappropriate purposes. When you look at a book on Goodreads, similar books are recommended below, which is how we learned that sentient object smut is an entire genre. From there, we stumbled upon an author named Chuck Tingle, who has written an astounding number of books (most are about thirty-five pages each). The titles of his stories quickly caught our attention. A few examples are his books I'm Gay For My Living Billionaire Jet Plane, My Macaroni And Cheese Is A Lesbian Also She Is My Lawyer, and Pounded By The Pound: Turned Gay By The Socioeconomic Implications Of Britain Leaving The European Union. He also has a series called “Breaking the Fourth Butt,” which includes Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt, Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt”, Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Book ‘Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt’”, Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Book ‘Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt”’”, Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Book ‘Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Book ‘Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt’”’”, Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Book ‘Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Book ‘Pounded In The Butt By My Book “Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt”’”’”, and of course, Turned Gay By The Existential Dread That I May Actually Be A Character In A Chuck Tingle Book. 

My favourite part about Chuck Tingle is that since the pandemic he’s written some full length novels which have very solid scores on Goodreads. These books supposedly have a different vibe than something like Living Inside My Own Butt For Eight Years, Starting A Business And Turning A Profit Through Common Sense Reinvestment And Strategic Targeted Marketing, but he still uses the same pseudonym. This means if you liked Bury Your Gays, Chuck Tingle’s book that has 4.04 stars based on 29,648 ratings on Goodreads, and you wanted to see what else you can read by the same author, you might then stumble upon Pounded In The Butt By My Irrational Bigoted Fear Of Humans Who Were Born As Unicorns Using A Human Restroom, and I think that’s very funny. 

Having read quite a bit of Dr. Tingle’s work at this point, I find it both impressive and disappointing. Each setup is entirely unique and interesting, only to transition to a sex scene that is more or less identical each time. At the same time though, the sex is essentially a purposeless part of the story, serving more as a gimmick to appeal to the weirdos who think gay smut about literal concepts is funny enough for them to spend $3.99 or whatever. I don’t think anyone has ever read a Chuck Tingle tale of erotica for the typical purposes of erotica, although I of course could be mistaken about that.

He’s also been nominated for two Hugo Awards, which I assumed were a comedy erotica accolade because I saw the trophy before reading the description, but apparently it’s a respected science fiction writing award. Needless to say the nominations and subsequent losses led to the publishing of Slammed in the Butt by My Hugo Award Nomination, Pounded In The Butt By My Hugo Award Loss, and Pounded In The Butt By My Second Hugo Award Nomination.

I feel I must also shout out his book covers for the absolute pieces of art they are.

Anyway, what else have I been up to? Hmm…

I got my first tattoo. My mum once told me that I could get a tattoo over her dead body, so I did. It says ‘Vienna’ in her handwriting. I couldn’t ask her to write it out given the whole being dead thing, so I had to scan pages of her diary and pick out individual letters. Was this diary reading an invasion of her privacy? I don’t think she’d care given how mad she’d be about the tattoo. 

‘Vienna’ is a reference to the Billy Joel song Vienna, which has been my favourite song for as long as I can remember. My mum and I shared a love for Billy Joel, and I have said for The Longest Time that if I ever had a daughter I’d want to name her Vienna after the song. I’ve never actually been to the city of Vienna though, and I’m a little scared that someday I’ll go and hate it, like what happened with Paris (I had a Paris-themed bedroom as a tween, only to visit the city for the first time when I was fifteen, discover that it sucks, and had to change my bedsheets to the non-Eiffel Tower ones upon return).

The newer meaning that the song has taken on in my head is the lyrics “Vienna waits for you.” In this situation Vienna is symbolizing death, and how there’s no need to rush towards it. It’s the feeling that even though I don’t believe in the afterlife, my mum and I will be together again someday, united in our nothingness, and a reminder that I don’t need to hurry towards it. She's waiting for me. Maybe that would make more sense if I believed in life after death, but a godless woman needs comfort somehow.

Speaking of changes, I got a new wig. That was exciting. This one feels more “me.” It’s always nice to feel like yourself. I’m also flirting with the idea of getting a nose piercing, which my father strictly objected to until I asked him which one of his nieces had one and he guessed every one except the one who did. He won’t notice it.

All of this is to say, if you have any ideas on how to help me find myself a little more, I’m all ears. Man, I can’t wait for retirement.